


Stranger In the Woods

by DemonicPiano



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Spoiler Alert! They're dorks., Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicPiano/pseuds/DemonicPiano
Summary: Alfred goes out into the woods to catch some dinner, but something else tries to catch him instead. Thus the hunter becomes the hunted...or maybe not.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Stranger In the Woods

"Bye, Matt! Going hunting!"

"Huh? What! Be careful!"

Alfred threw open the rear door to his and his brother's little cabin, slung his crossbow over his shoulder, and dove into the woods. As if he needed to be careful - he knew these trees better than the back of his hand. The only thing that could be dangerous in these parts was a rabid deer.

The little stream with a flat rock to perch on right in the middle, the mossy log nestled just perfectly in the prong of one of its neighbors, the creepy guy leaning against that oak - it was home! Alfred grew up in these woods!

His boots scuffled against decaying leaves as he pointed his bolt toward the oak. Nobody was there. A smile threatened Alfred's face, and he slugged his crossbow back into place before continuing with a peppy strut and a fine whistle. The good game wasn't for another half-mile anyway.

Something splintered a twig. It wasn't Alfred; he, of course, knew _all_ the soft spots and where to step. Oh, yeah, he was being followed. Painfully obviously, too.

Alfred slowed, craning his head back and letting out an obnoxious sigh from the bellows of his lungs. He slowly turned around with his unoccupied hand on his waist. Nothing but trees. He playfully rolled his eyes before turning away. Deer don't tend to follow hunters around.

Maybe it's an axe murderer. Uh oh. Usually those guys just jump out like, 'Argh! I'm gonna axe you to death!' instead of being sneaky. It's way scarier leaping in front of someone and screaming about blood and guts and gross stuff than to obviously tip-toe through the woods for the perfect scene. Unless whoever was following Alfred didn't get the chance for their big reveal yet.

Alfred whipped around, bolt ready.

A flutter of cloth brushed around a tree.

He could not help a grin. The hunter, apparently, was now the hunted. "I saw you."

Nothing.

"Come out," cheerfully, "I won't bite."

A head of messy hay-blond hair peered from his hiding spot, curtaining green slits that glinted in dusk's light. No axe, as far as Alfred could see. In a heavy flair, the stranger insinuated, "I didn't think you would."

"Uh-huh?" Alfred tipped his head for a better look. The guy shrunk a little ways behind his spot with an angry blink. "So...are you lost or something?"

"No."

"Why were you following me, then?"

A subtle shake of the head, as if in disbelief, "I'm _hunting_."

"Yeah, right." Without an axe, or cross bow, or anything but those freaky eyes. Alfred snorted, "You don't look like a hunter. I bet you're just trying to mooch or snatch my kill."

The stranger bristled, sinking sharp nails into the bark of his hidey-spot, but still did not come around. "I have no intention of doing that sort of thing."

"Oh, yeah? Then what were you doing?"

They stared at one another for a long moment. Freaky Eyes was, well, giving those freaky eyes between Alfred's face and the bolt readied for his own. Such a standoffish presence for a supposed killer, and he had not tried to murder Alfred...yet. Maybe he was actually a gentlemen deep down, only lurking after young men in a forest out of some unknown obligation. Ha.

"You can go away now."

"Oh!" Alfred beamed, giving his crossbow a subtle waggle, "I can?" Getting a deep scowl in return, he asked, "What'cha hunting?"

"Don't. Just go away."

"Hey, you're in my woods. You were following me around, doing the creep. I think I deserve to ask questions."

Freaky Eyes rolled his jaw, still glancing between the shiny bolt poised for his pale face and Alfred's persistent grin. "You," he started low, "I'm hunting you, you fool."

Alfred released a drawn-out, questioning hum.

"Then you had to be all nifty and now it's awkward."

"That was you being noisy."

"Excuse you! I'm the night!" The stranger scoffed, hand to chest included, "I am not noisy."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure I heard you."

"Well, I'm _famished_ , so, I may have stepped carelessly once or twice. It happens to the best of us."

"Uh-huh."

More staring.

Alfred asked, "Are you a cannibal?"

"What?! No! Are you a fool? I'm a vampire. Idiot."

" _Pfft_. Vampire. Sure."

The guy took a step toward Alfred, unleashing a powerful hiss between clenched teeth. Yep, he had fangs. He probably sharpened them to bite out people's necks...because he was a cannibal.

Alfred sprung a smile, wiggling his crossbolt as a reminder to take a big step back. Fangs McGee did, sharply turning his face away and screwing his mouth up in a child-like pout, "Stop being weird, then, please. Either give me your blood, or go away!"

Oh, please? Maybe cannibals can be decent people. "How 'bout _you_ stop being weird?"

"Shut up. You're tacky."

"Wow, tacky. You're one weird cannibal, you know that?"

Particularly thick eyebrows scrunched together in an ugly squall, "I am not a cannibal! I just want blood!"

"Ha-ha, okay, weirdo!"

Weirdo ducked to the other side of the tree, letting out a short hiss of annoyance as the bolt never strayed from his face. Nor did that sloppy grin stray from Alfred. He looped back again.

"How long have you been here, just chilling in these woods?"

Fangy McGee got bold and took a threatening stomp in Alfred's direction, growling all the way. As a weirdo would. Alfred raised his crossbow, aiming for the middle of his forehead. The apparent cannibal retreated back to his very protective tree. "I've been around since dawn. Getting tired from the sunlight. Figured I'd bag a snack before heading out for the night."

"Uh-huh. So I'm a snack."

"Sh-shut up."

"I might take that as a compliment."

"And you call me the weird one."

"Did you follow me all the way from the house?"

Chompy seemed reluctant to answer, keeping his eyes toward the ground, "Yes. I...saw you chopping deadwood earlier before you headed out."

"Oh, and you thought, 'Yes, that one will do.'"

"Yes, though I figured you would more than do."

"What?"

A quick shake of the head. "Nothing! Just...leave me be if you're not going to do anything!"

"And turn my back on a cannibal?" Alfred made sure to pitch up his voice to sing, "I don't think so!"

"I'm not a...ugh!" Cannibal shoved from the tree, putting his back to Alfred's point, "Whatever! I-I'll go find something else. O-or starve! Whatever comes first. I don't care anymore!"

Alfred resisted the urge to rest his weapon against his shoulder, keeping it poised against the 'vampire's' back. "So, you're leaving?"

Without looking back, "Yes!"

Biting back a snicker, Alfred called after, "Aw, already?" Things were, admittedly, much more interesting than a normal hunting trip. At least this time, he caught something. But it was getting away.

"Yes, already! Good day! Or night! Whatever!"

"Hey, wait!" Alfred called over his heart having a fit from this thoughts, "I _could_ give you my blood..."

The guy stopped. Wagged his head, then trudged away.

"On one condition!"

Ah, that got him to stop. He swiftly spun around, face contorted in a hybrid of a smirk and 'WTF.' "And what would that be, dear and fellow hunter?"

"You'll have to catch me first."

"Catch you?! Ha! Catch you!" Fangs McGee leaned forward like he was going to stalk after Alfred's throat at any given second once he let go of any personal control he had, but stayed rooted...for now. "Is that some kind of joke? I'm a vampire-"

A crossbolt sank into his thigh.

Alfred danced backwards on his tiptoes, stopped, and then made a beckoning motion.

Vampy-Cannibal doubled over, mouth gaped in shock, but only a drawl of air came out. Then an awful holler, "Augh! No!" He smashed a palm against a tree, splintering bark from the wood, huffed, puffed, and unleashed a string of fowl language, "You... _fucker!_ Absolutely not! I...I told you I was leaving! No deal! Fuck you!"

Alfred sighed, easing his weapon against his shoulder, "Oh, come on! I'm right here!"

Fangs hobbled to turn away, clutching onto the welt of dark blood oozing from his leg, and spat behind himself, "I'm not spending the last moments of my life entertaining you!"

"So you don't want my blood anymore?"

"No!" _Hobble, hobble._ "Fuck off!"

Alfred chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief from it all, and caught up to Mister Vampy in three long strides. "Are you really a vampire?"

"Are you _really_ following me?"

"I don't know. You guys aren't what I expected from all those horror stories you hear about blood-suckers and what not."

A hiss from clenched teeth.

"So, what's your name? Do you have a name? Do you _like_ drinking people's blood? How long have you been doing it?"

They limped on for a few quiet moments before the guy managed, "Why should I answer any of your questions? What? For you to finish me off and you go brag about it by name?"

"No," Alfred said. "I only shot you in the leg because you said you were going to eat me."

"Not eat you." Fangers stumbled, almost into Alfred, but hardly even reacted, still trying to limp away, "Just a little bit of blood...oh, _blood,_ and we both could have been on our separate ways." He stopped, putting a hand to a tree again to take in rough breath. "Either kill me, or fuck off, please."

"I'm just wondering, man. You're a weird guy. You know, we don't get that many visitors. Usually they ask for butter, or extra candles, not blood." Alfred stared at the pale sheen across the fiend's face, wondering if it was a sickly sort. "Who are you?"

"I'm a vampire, and...I'm a vampire."

"You got to have a name." Since Alfred got nothing from that, he asked, "Did you choose to be a monster?"

"Well, I'm not telling you." After letting off soft groans and taking shaky breaths, Fangs managed a weak flourish of hand, "Why, taking pity on a monster like me? If you think I'm so pitiful, you should hear how famished I am."

"Don't you take care of yourself? I mean, if you were getting hungry, why didn't you get something earlier?"

"I...I don't like biting people, contrary to popular belief. Not unwilling victims, anyway. Too much screaming and flailing and smacking and what not." Vampy-guy shoved from the tree to stumble forward, catching himself right into another one with a surprised grunt. "I'm just _hungry_. That's all."

Alfred slowly went around, keeping a hand on his weapon, although it stayed pointing to the sky for now. "Did you choose to be like this?"

Fangers lowered his forehead to lean against the tree trunk, shaking and whispering something to himself. "No...no, I didn't...I just want blood. Yes, I'm pathetic. Aren't we all...that's all I need..."

"So, you're really not a monster, are you?"

Monster Mash buckled, collapsing onto the leaf-littered floor. He managed to catch himself with his palms before smashing his face into the dirt, but it didn't seem like he would hold on for long. Maybe he really was on the way to the after-afterlife. Alfred chewed on his lower lip, contemplating if he should just get his brother dinner, or do something about that bolt standing proudly from the guy's thigh.

Alfred realized he felt bad, perhaps all to the 'monster's' plan. Yet, if the guy really did want to kill him, he could've grabbed a stick and gave him a good whack on the head from behind. He did follow Al around for a while, after all. Would he really hold it over a guy that still had some mannerism that was just hungry and looking for a nibble? Did Alfred feel guilt every time he hosted a raid to the snack cabinet back home? Hm, bad comparison.

A nod, then Alfred lowered himself to kneel, sticking a palm over the guy's knee. Vampy grunted, slouching against the tree as breathing came hard. Yeah, apparently vampires needed air, too. Unless he was just being dramatic.

"Don't bite me," Alfred warned as he set his crossbow to the ground.

"Heh," a weak breath, "funny."

Alfred glimpsed over the guy's face, to his green eyes distantly gazing at the dusk sky, before taking the shaft of his bolt and gripping it for a tense moment. Then he yanked it through the vampire's leg. Both cringed, and Vampy's mouth hung open to unleash a throaty gasp, but soon flopped against his personal leaning post, suffering the whole way.

Fresh (?) blood worked its way into the world as Alfred scrunched his mouth and fished for a handkerchief out of his pocket.

"Could've...told me you were doin' that."

"Ha, sorry." Alfred begun tying the cloth around the guy's leg.

"You really don't know what you're doing, do you?"

"Shut up. I'm trying."

Fangs blankly stared at Alfred fumbling with getting the thing all done up in a tiny double-knot. "Arthur."

"What?"

"Sir Arthur Kirkland, if you must know. I lived a few steps south from that old bridge just on the outside of these treacherous woods before..."

"Yeah..." Alfred eyed his handy-work. At least the blood seemed to stop flowing so much. Maybe. Maybe not. "Oh, uh, my brother and I live in that log cabin back there since we were kids. Pa never told us where we came from before that. My name's Alfred, by the way." He mustered a grin, "Alfred Jones... _sir_."

Arthur managed to tilt his chin up, perhaps finding himself to becoming more lively under tender care, and a ghost of a grin crept along his undead face. "Why, thank you, Alfred, for feeling guilty enough to help take that damn bolt from my leg...even though you shot me in the first place."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks for...feeling guilty for trying to take a chunk from my neck, I guess."

"I can't help it."

"I don't blame you."

Arthur lifted an arm, unleashing a creepy exhale from the bellows of his undead lungs as he reached for Alfred's face. Alfred flinched, about to put a palm on his crossbow, but light fingers just padded along his cheek. His hand was cold, of course.

"Um, what-?"

Arthur withdrew to wound his arms around himself, grumbling, "Nothing...you're just...bloody attractive, that's all."

Alfred blinked once before unleashing a bewildered laugh, "So you had to do the creep and touch my face like that? I'm not the one that's all bloody right now, anyway!" He closed his mouth to clear his throat so his voice didn't try anything funny, "First you try to bite my throat out, then you tell me to fuck off, and now you're trying to _flirt_ with me?"

"Well, surely I'm dead now, aren't I?!" Arthur lamely tossed his hands in the air before they fell limp onto the leaf-littered floor. "Gone, and withered away into the afterlife. Not exactly what I was expecting, but..." A sigh, then a timid smile toyed with Arthur's lips as he glanced Alfred down, "Surely it's far better than some things I'd imagine."

"Wow, uh..." Alfred twisted around and set a hand on his crossbow, out of habit from vampire-cannibals and to put his eyes somewhere else, "You're not actually dead, you know, but I think you're going crazy."

"I suppose that could do. There seems to be something in you that wants to keep me alive, then. As alive as I can be."

Alfred cussed to himself as a slap of heat hit his face, and shoved himself from the forest floor.

Fangs McGee kept babbling, "I don't suppose you could use that...that bow you seem to like slinging around to catch me something to get me back on my feet, hm? How about it? Since you're going through all this trouble already..."

"Okay, okay!" Alfred almost pleaded against sleepy stares and sultry slurring, "I'm not letting you bite me, so I'm going to find something else for you to snack on. Just...don't go anywhere!"

"That's just fine, love. As long as you come back."

Alfred grunted in annoyance at himself getting giddy from some undead dude's lame attempts at wink-wink-nudge-nudging. It had to be a vampire's trick, right? If sneaking didn't work, then fake apathy failed, the next step would be to turn around to compliment prey until it draped over his lap...right?

Not that Alfred would drape over anyone's lap. He slapped a hand on the back of his neck and glanced over his shoulder. Arthur stayed where he was, limply lying against the tree, but the intensity in his stubborn stare was only one of the things alive about him.

Vampires were weird guys.

But Alfred was weirder.


End file.
